


Toko's Story

by jrdexex



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrdexex/pseuds/jrdexex
Summary: Why does everyone think the world is painted in the deepest black of despair and the blinding white of hope? There is nothing in the world but gray; good for one is bad for another. Even the killing game was not the deepest, blackest, despair. True darkness can only exist in concept, or so Toko thinks.





	Toko's Story

Dear Hifumi,

You're dead but we both know that.

I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, not that I wanted to at the time. I thought of you as gross, annoying, etc. I'm sorry for being like that. Apparently, although I have forgotten about it, I kept a diary during our time at Hope's Peak. I just recently found it. Munakata had some of our old things in storage, and it was in my box. We were friends, and good ones, according to the diary. I wish I could remember. 

I had a dream last night. It's not much of a transition, but that's the reason I wanted to write you something. It is something that I've been obsessing over for weeks. It was a nightmare, but I remember every detail. I don't want to inflict it on anyone alive, it would make them sad. But perhaps, it will bring you comfort, knowing that our killing school life did not reach this point of hopelessness. 

Perhaps by writing it down, I can get this story out of my mind. Maybe I'll be able to sleep again soon. It is not long, or anything of real quality, Hifumi, forgive me. I am very tired. I wrote it in a "he", but I dreamed it was me.

Toko F.

* * *

There once was a boy. A not-so-very talented boy, and unlucky to boot. He had no particular talents and knew it. And so, he was a quiet, insecure, polite guy who wanted nothing more to get onto his favorite show.

This boy did, and he was the star!

He forgot himself, and believed that the show was real, for the show, the horrible show, the killing game, was real. His assumed persona became his only persona.

His friends, too, knew nothing of the real world. The pretend stakes became the real stakes, and in their minds, those became more important than the lives of their ~~false~~ friends. Each death hit the boy like a truck, rolling over his heart. Yet, he grew stronger, more confident in 'his' skills in solving the murders, and closer to finding the truth.

And then he did, he found out the secret of the show. His friends died for nothing but entertainment. He knew nothing of the self he was before, or the real world, for he was neither-real or the person he was before.

* * *

The girl, Miaya, looks at the small paper offering.

It was unfolded, the seal broken in her small hands. The message has not made it to its destination. Hifumi's grave still stands empty of gifts. 

Miaya's mouth is normally covered with a scarf, but today, her small mouth is visible to the sun, which glints harshly against her wheelchair's monitor. She smiles, and it is a smile that should be covered, especially from the patients she should have been caring for.

. . .

_Monaca will like this._

 


End file.
